


Which Tells of Rest, Revelations, and Regrouping

by Untherius



Series: Adrift [4]
Category: Emberverse - S. M. Stirling, Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Angst, Celtic Woman, Gen, Mermaids, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Untherius/pseuds/Untherius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having escaped from Wales, the question on everyone's mind is, "Now what?"  But they don't have much time to dwell on that as they're faced with with the mental whiplash of a number of surprising discoveries about their fellow travellers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Scilly Isles, Cornwall  
March 22, CY 1, 2012 AD

Orla Fallon awoke to a gentle rocking motion. She blinked, trying to identify her surroundings. The space was dim. She lay on something soft with something else soft on top of her.

She sat up, but instantly regretted it when her head hit something. She flopped back down onto her back. She groaned and put a hand to her head. She didn't feel anything damp, so she apparently wasn't bleeding. That was good. That also meant she was alive.

She was instantly even more alert than she already was. If she was alive, that meant she'd found a mage...or maybe that mage had found her. It also meant she was probably still in that person's company. Furthermore, it meant that Marido was probably alive, too.

“Ya-Marido?” she croaked, hoping the other woman might be in the room.

“Oh!” said a voice that Orla recognized as belonging to Marido—called Mairead—Nesbitt, “you're awake!”

Orla gently drew back a light blanket, turned her head, and carefully sat up, mindful not to bump her head again on what she now saw in the dim, greenish light was a low ceiling. She swung her legs over the edge of what appeared to be a bed. She peered across the room at someone—probably Marido--sitting on another bed. No, it looked more like a bunk.

“Are we on a boat?” said Orla.

“I think so.”

“Can we...get a bit more light?”

The other woman stood up, took a few steps toward a wall, then pulled aside a small curtain. Grey daylight spilled through a small, oval window. It was enough to illuminate both Marido and the room they occupied. It was small, maybe ten by eight feet. A pair of bunk beds occupied each wall. The lowermost bed sat on a pair of drawers and two vertical lockers squeezed between the beds and the door.

Marido looked out the window.

“Sah,” she said, “we do indeed appear to be on a boat.”

“When did that happen?”

“I've no idea. We were unconscious. I only woke up a few minutes ago myself.”

Orla looked herself over. Someone had dressed her in a grey-green tee-tunic woven out of some wool-like fiber. It came down to just below her knees and the sleeves ended halfway to her elbow. She looked back at Marido, who wore an identical garment, but sized for her smaller frame. She was also barefooted.

Orla looked down and wiggled her evenly-sized, fan-arranged toes. She ran one foot down her calf and over its dewclaw, then fingered the two-inch-long bony protuberance that was an external extension of her ulna.

“Well,” said Orla, “they know what we are.”

“Or at least what we're not,” said Marido.

“We're alive, aren't we?”

“Unless this is the afterlife.”

Orla chuckled ruefully. “Lein, I'm quite sure it isn't.”

“But what if it is?”

“Then a lot of people are going to be very surprised, myself included.”

Animated voices floated down from somewhere overhead. Orla and Marido looked at each other. Orla stood up, then paused to steady herself.

“Sishobuka?” said Marido. Are you alright?

“Ai,” yes.

Orla stepped over and tried the door. It opened easily.

“That's a good sign, innit?” said Marido.

“Seems like.”

The two women stepped out into a narrow hallway. It was bathed in a soft, green glow coming from recessed lights along the ceiling.

Marido peered at one of them. The bulb had been removed and the interior of the fixture smeared with something that glowed in the dark. “Magic?” she said.

“If it is,” said Orla, “I don't feel it. I think it's something else. It looks familiar, though.”

“We seem to be in the right place, then.”

“That remains to be seen,” said Orla as she led the way toward a set of stairs at the end of the hall.

“Eh?” asked Marido.

“We know what _they_ are, but we still don't know if they're the sort of people with whom we should be associating.”

“They saved our lives, didn't they?”

“But to what end?”

Voices sounded from down the hallway. The pair barely got out of the way as four children thundered past them, a woman in hot pursuit. “Sugiwe,” excuse me, she said as she rushed by.

Orla and Marido looked at each other.

“They also have children,” said Marido, “and they speak Ingarian. How evil can they be?”

Orla smiled, then shrugged. “There's one way to find out.”

* * *

Hayley Westenra sat at a small table in what was called the Common Room of Gareth Perry's yacht Amphitrite. She glanced over at Chloe Agnew, who sat next to her nursing a mug of tea brewed from something called athalas. Neither woman had ever heard of it, but it was delicious!

At the other end of the room, near a set of large, open doors, an argument of sorts was underway.

“She's _what?!_ And you're _what?!_ And she's _what?!_ ” blurted a young man.

“You see?” said a second man, but more calmly. “This is exactly why I didn't tell you before.”

Motion to Hayley's right caught her attention. She turned to see Orla and Mairead—or maybe it really was Marido, Hayley still wasn't quite sure—crest the stairs leading from the cabins on the lower deck.

“Oh!” she said. “You're up!”

Orla and Mairead looked at Hayley and Chloe and smiled broadly. The four women exchanged hugs.

“You both seem to be doing better,” said Hayley. She noticed that both her friends' eyes still looked bigger than they should be, but she said nothing.

“Ai,” said Mairead. “Much. Thank-you.” She looked at Chloe. “How's the ankle?”

“Um,” said Chloe, “they fixed it. Don't know how. Hurt like a bugger.”

“Magic,” said Orla.

Chloe regarded her friend for a moment. “I believe you. Wouldn't have if you'd just told me, though.”

“So what's this?” said Orla, gesturing toward the heated conversation across the room.

“Oh, that,” said Hayley. “You wouldn't believe it. Or maybe you would. Anyway, the one man...the upset one...is Rhys. The other is his best friend Neil Perry. Neil's dad owns the boat. We're, um, on a boat, by the way.”

“So I gathered,” said Mairead.

Hayley nodded. “The pregnant woman's Neil's wife Nalaya. Rhys is upset because Neil waited until just now to tell him Nalaya's...and I almost feel silly saying it...an alien.”

“I see,” said Orla. She sounded confused about something.

“And I mean,” said Hayley, “not just a foreigner, but an extraterrestrial. Can you believe it? Actual aliens! From...outer space! It's...well, it's a little surreal.”

“Yes,” said Orla, “I do believe it.”

Mairead rounded on Orla. “You told me that's impossible! You told me if I coupled with a human, it would kill me!”

“Sah!” said Orla defensively. “And it will!”

“Oh, really?!” Mairead gestured toward Nalaya.

“Maybe it was in vitro?” said Orla.

“You're telling me,” continued Rhys, “that you had _sex_ with her?!”

“Of course I've had sex with her!” said Neil. “She's my wife! We have sex all the time! That's what married people do!”

“You were saying?” said Mairead.

Orla looked across the room, then back at Mairead. “It shouldn't be possible! I...I don't understand.”

Mairead crossed her arms and glared at Orla.

“You,” said Hayley, “you two...know about this?”

Mairead looked sideways at Hayley and cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course we do,” said Orla.

Chloe's hands flew up to her mouth and she gasped. “Oh, my God!” she said, staring at Mairead and Orla. “You're...you're...you're...”

Orla cocked an eyebrow. “Ai?”

Hayley followed Chloe's gaze to Orla's and Mairead's elbows and started. Both women had a couple of inches of--Hayley couldn't tell if it was horn, bone, or something else--protruding from their elbows and following the lines of their lower arms. “Egad!” she said. She looked up again, then to Mairead, then back to Orla, briefly locking her own eyes with each of their larger ones. “Why...why didn't you tell us?”

Orla gestured toward Rhys, who was still ranting. “That's why.”

“Never mind why,” said Chloe, “how? We practically lived together on tour. I've seen both of your bare elbows more times than I can count. So have our audiences, for that matter.”

“And my feet,” said Orla, lifting one off the floor. She turned it sideways to show the dewclaw protruding from the lower end of her calf, the dual Achilles tendons clearly visible on both sides of the claw, which was easily as large as a human's big toe. Chloe gasped. “Magic,” said Orla. “Camouflage spell, to be precise.” She returned her foot to the floor. “Didn't help much with the shoes, though. That's one limitation. We can mask the appearance of our feet, but they still have to function as designed, which means human shoes hurt. Hence Marido's comments to that effect the other day.” She glanced to the other end of the room and exhaled. “Would you excuse me, please?”

She turned and raised her voice and her arms with it. “ _YA-RHYS!_ ” Her voice filled the space and silence followed. “It is Rhys, is it not?” Rhys looked her direction. “Would you please get over it?”

“What?” said Rhys.

“I said, please get over it. We're more alike than we are different. Nalaya's not a threat to you or anyone else. Please at least be polite to her.”

“But she's an alien!”

“So am I!” said Orla. “And to her, it's the other way 'round.”

“What?!”

“Ya-Rhys!” Orla sounded thoroughly irritated, her usual gesticulations growing more animated. “Calm down! If you don't, I shall walk over there, personally rip out your throat, and make you watch me eat it as you die! Do I make myself clear?”

Rhys spluttered, but clamped his mouth shut.

Orla rolled her eyes and turned back to her friends. “And that is why we impersonate you when we're here. Your people have been dreaming of First Contact for years. Not only has it already been made...centuries ago, in fact...I'm not convinced you, as a group, are ready for it.”

“Would you really have done that?” said Hayley nervously. She wasn't sure if her feelings were from the lingering tension in the room, or a bit of shock that sweet, gentle, mild-mannered Orla would say something like that. “I mean, ripped out his throat and...” She couldn't quite finish the sentence.

Orla snorted. “Of course not,” she said quietly. “But he was being...migldi magldi.”

“What?”

“Generally...erm...neither here nor there...that's one way of interpreting it. Or maybe...neither fish, nor fowl, nor good red meat. Or...je ne sais quoi. That sort of thing.” She turned to Mairead and gently took her arms. “Ya-Marido, I really have no idea why they're both still alive.”

“I...I'm still confused,” said Chloe.

“Let's sit down,” said Orla. After they'd returned to the table, Orla continued. “We might look a lot like you, but we are not you. A couple of centuries ago, a human man and an Ingarian woman married. Now, you must understand that consummation of the marriage is part of an Ingarian wedding.”

Hayley gasped.

“You...you're putting us on!” laughed Chloe.

“Lein...no, I'm not. Both bride and groom dropped dead within minutes. Details have been...omitted from every account I've ever read, which probably means they were rather disturbing. Even the coroner's reports remain sealed. There was an awful lot of fuss over it. Eighty years later, a human woman and an Ingarian man tried the same thing with the same results. People were livid. Several historians have asserted that had the incidents happened much closer together, Ingary would likely have attacked Earth. And believe me, it wouldn't have gone well. Magical warfare is extremely messy. That's partly why there are only three billion of us and seven billion of you. It wasn't until much later that we discovered what really happened and why. To my knowledge, no one's attempted it since. Clearly I've missed something.”

“I'm sorry about all of that,” said Neil who'd stepped up to the other side of the table. “Rhys really isn't all that bad. He's just...a bit shocked. He kind of has trouble with surprises. He's actually more upset that I kept that kind of a secret from him...and he was a bit taken with Nalaya. You should have seen his face drop the day I told him she and I were to marry. It nearly fell off his head. I don't think he really has a problem with Ingarians.”

“Good,” said Orla, “because we don't really have a problem with humans. Actually, we rather like you...most of the time.”

Neil smiled. “We rather like you, too. Well, those of us who really know about you. You're quite charming.”

“Loramin.” Thank-you.

“This is still surreal,” said Hayley.

Neil chuckled. “I know the feeling.”

“And I have a dozen questions to ask and I want to ask them all at once,” said Orla.

“I know that feeling, too. Anyway, we're glad to see you're both feeling better. You two gave us quite a scare.”

Orla chuckled ruefully. “We gave ourselves quite a scare.”

Neil sat down. “We have plenty of time,” he said. “Ask away.”

“Where are we?”

“A bit northeast of the Scilly Isles. We plan to layover there while we decide what to do next.”

“Oh,” said Orla. She sounded disappointed. “I was rather hoping we were on Ingary. Silly, I know.”

“What's it like?” asked Chloe excitedly.

Orla turned to her and Hayley. “Oh, you should see it! Rather like here, really. But with a shimmering ring stretched across the sky.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand. “We even have things like cattle, dogs, chickens, trees, grass, and so on. They look a little different from yours, but I daresay you might be a bit disappointed. Though we do have some other things you don't. And some things you used to have, but don't anymore.” She turned to Neil. “I don't suppose you've been in touch with Ingary? I lost contact a few years back. It was quite unsettling.”

Neil's face fell and his mouth dropped slightly. “Oh. Oh, dear. I...erm...ah...” He stood up quickly. “Stay here. I'll be right back. Don't...just stay here.” He hurried out of the room.

Hayley blinked, then brushed a stray strand of her dirty-blonde hair out of her face and tucked it behind an ear. “What was that all about?”

“I don't know,” said Orla, “but whatever it was, I have a very bad feeling about it.”

A few moments later, Neil reappeared, shot the four Celtic Women a concerned look, then trotted down the stairs to the lower deck. A few minutes after that, he returned laboring under a large printer-paper box. He walked over and lowered it carefully onto the table. He removed the lid, then lifted out several reams of paper with something printed on it. It looked like some sort of list.

“What's that?” said Chloe.

“Database,” said Neil. “Printed a hard-copy last month off back-ups after my hard drive crashed. Migldi magldi.” He shook his head. “I'm...very sorry. We should go over this first.”

“First?” said Orla. “What do you mean first?”

He looked at Orla. “Name?”

Orla hesitated. “Orla Fallon.”

Neil rifled through bound sections of paper, pulled one out, and thumbed through it. He frowned. “Maiden name or married?”

“Married name.”

Neil frowned and shook his head slowly. “No Fallons. Maiden name?”

“Just what's that a database _of_?” said Orla.

“I'm getting to that,” said Neil. “Maiden name?” he asked again.

Orla just stared at him. He inclined his head expectantly. His expression softened slightly. “It's...important,” he said.

“Selthby,” she said.

Neil pulled out another bound stack and thumbed through it. “No Selthbies. Any other next of kin?”

Orla hesitated.

“What's your country of origin?”

“High Norland.”

“That's a little more promising. It so happens we have a Norlander here with us.”

“One?”

Neil ignored the question and looked at Mairead. “And you?”

“Erm...Mairead Nesbitt. But my real name's Marido.”

Well, thought Hayley, that answered one question.

“Married name or maiden?”

“Maiden.”

Neil pulled out another bound stack and thumbed through that one. He sighed. “No Nesbitts either.”

“I'm...adopted anyway,” said Marido.

“I see,” said Neil. “Country of origin?”

“Ireland?”

Neil raised an eyebrow, then smiled disarmingly. “We both know you're not really Irish. What's your real country of origin?”

“Montalbino...I think. At least, that's what I was told.”

“Please,” said Orla, “is...this about my family?” She sounded agitated.

“She's right,” said Marido. “If you're going to ask us questions, could you at least tell us why?”

A middle-aged woman stepped up to the table. Hayley recognized her as Megan Perry, even without the bi-colored soft pink and forest-green hair. She looked at Neil, who shook his head slightly. She sat slowly and gracefully at the table, then reached over and took Orla's hand in one of hers and Marido's in her other. She took a deep breath, held it, then let it back out. “I've had this discussion far more often than anyone should. No matter how many times and how many ways, it never gets any easier.”

Orla stiffened, as though she somehow knew what was coming and it seemed to Hayley that it didn't take a genius to know what that was.

“Yes, Orla...Marido...it's about your families. That database my son has...it's a list of survivors.”

Orla made a slight squeaking sound.

“Survivors of what?” said Marido.

“There's no easy way to say it. Every other Ingarian we've ever met lived through it. You're the first we've encountered who haven't and who apparently don't even know. Ingary is gone.”

“G...gone?” squeaked Orla.

“What do you mean, gone?” said Marido. “Ingary's a planet. How can it be gone?”

Hayley felt an abrupt spike in the emotional tension. It was suddenly so thick, she could have practically cut it with a knife.

“Five years ago,” said Megan, “Krakanen went supernova. The shockwave destroyed everything within a five light-year radius.”

Hayley blinked. She figured Megan would say something about someone in Orla's and Mairead's...Marido's, she reminded herself...family dying from something...or maybe some natural disaster like a flood or some-such. As a Kiwi, her own homeland was prone to earthquakes, which could be destructive. She would never have expected, 'oh, by the way, your planet's been destroyed!' Hayley was nearly in shock herself and it wasn't even her planet!

“I'm very, very sorry,” said Megan, a tear rising to each eye. Hayley could tell the woman sincerely meant that with every fiber of her being.

Orla started to cry. It quickly escalated to an anguished wail. She tipped her head back and howled in agony, then collapsed onto the table and began to sob violently.

Marido began to cry, too, but not remotely as much. She lowered her forehead onto Orla's twitching shoulder.

Megan stood up, walked around the table, and put her arms around both crying women. Hayley and Chloe just stared.

“Ya-Hayley? Ya-Chloe?” said Neil. They looked at him. “They had family, didn't they?”

“Y...yes,” said Chloe. “Orla has...had...a husband and a son. And Mairead is...was...married. But...”

“But we thought they were Irish,” said Hayley.

Neil made some notes on his papers, then set them aside. “You're their friends. They're going to need you. You don't have to have a degree in psychology, or anything so dramatic. Just be here for them. They'll heal eventually. What you need to know is that the Ingarian grieving process is usually much shorter than ours, but also much more intense. You also need to know that every Ingarian on this ship and the other one has been through this. And we were there alongside them. You're not alone and neither are your friends.”

Nalaya padded over and put her arms around Orla and Marido as both their shoulders shook. Others drifted into the room and joined the group hug. Hayley and Chloe rose slowly to their own feet and put their own arms around the growing knot of people.

Hayley felt tears rising up in her own eyes. She could swear she could feel the grief pouring out of her friends as though it were so much perspiration. Her mind spun. Sometimes she'd had bad daydreams about what might happen if her own fiance Arnaud were to die and how she might handle it. None of them came close to what Orla and Mairead were surely enduring. Could she even truly imagine it, let alone understand? She'd have to try. No...do or do not, there was no try...even if it ultimately proved impossible.

* * *

The sun sank toward the sea beyond the Scilly Isles, which in turn rose as bumps out of the gently-rolling waves. Some of the northeastern-most islands, mostly small, rocky points, drifted past them off the port beam. A taut, stout tow-rope connected _Amphitrite's_ bow to _Loriesha's_ stern. That ship's masts stood tall above her, sails full in a stiff breeze.

Hayley stepped out onto the forward quarterdeck, Chloe right behind her. She could feel the texture of the well-finished wooden decking beneath her bare feet. Going bare-footed was surprisingly comfortable and she wondered why she hadn't done it more often. Her heels kept trying to bob up off the deck, probably a result of short tendons from wearing high-heeled shoes so often over so many years. She was beginning to think her brother might have been right about what he'd long teased her about “those evil spikes” of hers. Even Chloe had been without shoes since the morning after the crash, which she didn't seem to mind either. For that matter, neither did Orla and Mairead, and probably for different reasons, though they had other things on their minds.

Both Ingarian women had been crying almost continually for hours. “Crying” would have been a mild term. The reality had been much closer to what Hayley had envisioned from reading biblical references to tearing one's clothing and sitting in sack-cloth and ashes while wailing and gnashing one's teeth. It had been physically painful just hearing, let alone watching, it. And both Hayley and Chloe had been taking turns holding first one of their friends and then the other.

The hours all ran together in an unpleasant blur of emotional pain. Both Hayley and Chloe had cried, too—partly in shared mourning over Marido's late husband Jim, who'd been their friend too, and partly from empathy with their grieving friends. At some point, though Hayley hadn't bothered to note when, the crying had tapered off—at which point she and Chloe had gone below to address their persistently-growling stomachs.

Orla stood near the bow, Marido right behind her. Both women had their hair pinned up in a bun. Orla sang what Hayley recognized as her song “Distant Shore.” Only Orla wasn't singing it in English...or in Gaelic. It must have been...Ingarian. It was beautiful and filled with such anguish as Hayley had never felt before. It was nearly tangible.

Hayley and Chloe walked across the deck and stopped a couple of yards behind their friends. They waited, listening to Orla's song, tears welling up in their own eyes. When she'd finished, she sank to her knees and began to sob anew. Marido stepped up and placed a hand on her shoulder and Hayley and Chloe joined her.

Hayley exchanged a pained look with Mairead...Marido. Bother, that was confusing! After a few minutes, the crying subsided and Orla rose shakily to her feet.

Orla looked at her friends. “Thank-you,” she said softly.

Animated voices rose from somewhere on _Loriesh_ a. The four Celtic Women looked in that direction. The rope between the ships went suddenly slack and people on the other ship rushed to her rails, looking downward into the water. _Amphitrite_ turned slightly to starboard and quickly overtook the other ship. Chloe stepped up onto the bow and leaned out.

“Ya-Chloe,” said Marido, “don't...you know you can't swim.”

“Don't worry,” said Chloe absently. “I'm just...”

The ship's bow rope whipped up suddenly out of the water and went taut with a malevolent thrumming sound, followed by an angry creak. _Amphitrite_ lurched, listing sharply to starboard. Chloe lost her balance, yelped, and fell over. Marido lunged. Her fingers brushed Chloe's outstretched hand as the other woman fell.

Hayley watched in horror as Chloe half slid, half rolled, wide-eyed toward the starboard edge of the boat. She grabbed frantically at the upper hull, but her fingers only slipped off of the smooth fiberglass and she flipped over the edge with a terrified shriek.

“ _CHLOE!_ ” Hayley heard a splash. The boat shifted a bit more, then bobbed upright.

People shouted back and forth between the boats while Hayley, Marido, and Orla scrambled toward the edge on hands and knees.

“Man overboard!” called a man from further aft.

Hayley caught a blur of motion as someone dove off the deck next to her. She couldn't be sure, but she thought it looked like Rhys.

A minute later, someone surfaced. “Holy shit!” It was Rhys.

“Where's Chloe?!” said Hayley.

“You won't believe it,” said Rhys as he tread water. He turned and started to swim toward the stern. The three Celtic Women followed him along the foredeck as far as they could, then rushed down into the ship, hurried through the Common Room, emerged onto the aft quarterdeck, and clambered down onto the fantail.

“What happened?” said Marido as she helped Rhys out of the water. “Where's Chloe?”

“She's...she's...she's...”

“Out with it, man!” said Orla. She still sounded on-edge. Hayley suspected it would be some time before her friend were otherwise.

Gareth and Mari appeared on the quarterdeck above them. “Rhys!” said Gareth. “Did you find her?”

“Ie,” yes, said Rhys. He was already starting to shiver. Mari tossed him a towel. “Thanks.” He caught it one-handed, then wrapped it around himself. “You won't believe it.”

“We might,” said Gareth.

“She...she's a bloody mermaid!”

Everyone blinked at him.

“Really?” said Orla.

“Ie. Well, her legs had turned into a tail. That's all I saw. Hard to see in salt water, you know? Couldn't tell if she was breathin' or anythin'...just the tail. Bloody hard to miss that!”

Orla grinned. “Our Chloe...a mermaid! How wonderful!”

“You think she'll agree?” said Mari.

“Why wouldn't she?” said Marido. “She's always liked mermaids.”

A disturbance in the water caught their attention. Chloe's head and shoulders bobbed about a yard off the fantail. She reached up and combed the hair out of her face, which bore a peculiar mix of expressions, dominated by competing fear and wonder.

Hayley knelt down and held out her hand. Chloe spit up what looked to Hayley to be an unnatural amount of water and paddled awkwardly over to her. Hayley grabbed her and, with Marido's help, pulled Chloe out of the water.

Chloe plopped herself down, dragged her waterlogged skirts up nearly to her hips, and hauled what was unmistakably a mermaid tail out of the water and let if fall unceremoniously to the deck with a dull splut. She sat there, panting, and stared at her tail. It was a beautiful peacock color, lighter on the ventral side, with variations on the lateral sides. The dorsal side was out of view. The tail terminated in a strong, broad, slightly forked fin. “Oh, my God!” she said finally.

“Whoo!” said Orla excitedly. She was practically vibrating, her grief apparently momentarily forgotten.

“Ya-Chloe!” said Mari. “That's beautiful!” She climbed down to join the others.

“Erm...thanks...I think,” said Chloe. “Now what?” She wiggled her fin up and down, curled a couple of feet of the tail upward in a graceful C, then lowered it back to the deck.

“I'm afraid I'm not quite sure,” said Orla.

“No idea,” said Mari. “But this has a lot of potential.”

“I...I'm a mermaid!” said Chloe. “ _Why_ am I a mermaid?!”

“No idea,” said Mari again.

“Ow,” said Chloe.

“It's a shock, sure,” said Marido.

“No,” said Chloe. “Ow! My...my tail...it hurts!”

“What?” said Orla.

“Why?” said Mari.

“How should I know?!” said Chloe. “Ahh...! It's...getting...hot!”

Hayley watched as Chloe's scales...scales!...started glowing, first a dull red, then lightening to a bright, bronzey color.

Chloe leaned back on her hands and started breathing heavily. She gasped, then gasped again, all the while staring at her tail. Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She began to whimper. Steam rose copiously from the woolen fabric surrounding the base of Chloe's tail.

Hayley put an arm around her and held her close. “What can I do?”

“M...make it stop!” wailed Chloe.

Hayley looked up at the others, her gaze leveling at Mari. “Well?” she demanded. “You people can heal a broken ankle, fuse metal, unfold a ship, obliterate a road, and God knows what else! Do something!”

“Like what?” said Mari.

“Don't ask me!” Hayley looked back at Chloe, who quivered in her arms. “Look at her!”

“Wait,” said Mari. She pointed at Chloe's tail. “I think it's turning back into legs!”

Hayley looked. Sure enough, a deepening crease had developed in Chloe's tail. As she watched, and as Chloe continued to stare through her tears, the crease dove into the middle of the tail and split it in two. The scales receded into human skin and the now-separated fin lobes resolved into feet. The glow faded and Chloe gasped again, her breathing gradually steadying.

“Ow,” she croaked. Then, “Oh...” She struggled out of Hayley's arms, rolled to the edge of the fantail and threw up into the sea.

Hayley cringed. When Chloe was finished, she collapsed against Hayley, gasping. “That sucked,” she croaked.

“Here,” said Hayley, again putting her arms around her friend, “let's get you inside. Need a drink?”

“Do I ever,” groaned Chloe.

Hayley and Marido helped Chloe up to the quarterdeck. The men ducked inside while Hayley helped Chloe out of her wet clothes and wrapped her in a large towel before leading her into the Common Room. They sat her down at a table. Mari trotted fore and disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a mug of something.

“Sorry it isn't warm,” said Mari. “Maybe later?”

Chloe nodded and took the mug gratefully.

“Well,” said Gareth, “that was...interesting.”

“Interesting?” said Chloe.

“What happened?” said Hayley. “I mean, with the ships.”

“ _Loriesha_ ran aground. Our momentum kept us going, pulled taut on the bow line, and we listed...all a bit too abruptly. I thought we didn't have enough line, and it looks like I was right. Anyway, it looks like we're going to have to sit tight and wait for high tide. Then we'll move into deeper water and seek harbor for the night. We're calling an all-hands meeting after breakfast tomorrow morning over on _Loriesha_.”

Gareth looked at Rhys. “Thank-you, ya-Rhys.”

“No problem,” said Rhys.

“No, I mean it. That was selfless of you and I appreciate it. Now, go below and get into some dry clothes.”

Rhys nodded, then looked at Chloe. “You okay?” he asked her. Chloe nodded and Rhys disappeared below deck.

Mari put a hand on Chloe's shoulder. “Are you going to be alright?”

Chloe nodded. “Aye. I think so. Thank-you. That was...well, I'm not sure...weird. And unspeakably painful.”

“I believe you. Maybe you should stay away from edges for a while, though.”

Chloe nodded again. “Yeh...I think you're right. Oh, and do you have anything with alcohol in it? I think I could really use _that_ sort of drink, too.”

“I'm afraid we don't,” said Gareth. “A little for cooking, but that's it. Ya-Mari? Would you make a note of that? We should cover that at the meeting.”

Mari scribbled something on a small note pad.

Someone walked up to Gareth and said something in Ingarian. A brief conversation ensued. Gareth looked back at the Celtic Women. “If you'll excuse me, it looks like I have some more captaining to do.”

Hayley, Chloe, Orla, and Marido looked at each other and smiled weakly.

* * *

Hayley Westenra lay in bed. The cabin was dark except for the faint, greenish glow of the bioluminescent fungus spread on the light cover near the door.

In the bunk across from her, Chloe snored softly, somehow managing to do so in a ladylike manner. Transforming into a mermaid--or, rather, to whatever it was one should call the “sporting a tail” version--and back had taking a lot out of Chloe, for she'd fallen asleep as soon as her head had hit her pillow.

In the bunk beneath hers, Orla's periodic squeaks and sniffles had tapered off. She'd cried herself to sleep, but now her breathing was slow, rhythmic, and mercifully peaceful. Hayley prayed her friend's dreams would be equally so.

Across from Orla, Marido was apparently also asleep. Hayley hadn't heard a sound out of her in some time.

Hayley sighed. Having been on tour with all three women, she was well used to the peaceful sounds of them sleeping. While she herself felt similarly at peace, their day had been anything but. Her head still spun. Technology no longer worked, magic was real, two of her friends were extraterrestrials whose planet had been destroyed and a third was a mermaid! It was like something out of a weird science fiction novel.

She knew rumors traveled quickly and she wondered if the other Celtic Woman survivors on the other boat...ship...had heard any of it. She hadn't had much contact with any of them since Cardiff. That wasn't saying much, as all of them, with the exception of herself and Chloe, had been unconscious for a while.

She wondered how the others were doing. Had they been...repaired...the way Chloe's ankle had? Ray Fean, Andreja Malir, Rosemary Collier, and David Downes had simply been put into “magical stasis,” whatever that was, and had been carried aboard Loriesha like Orla and Marido had been carried aboard Amphitrite. Two women--Megan and someone named Sophie Pendragon--had said they were surprised any of the Celtic Woman survivors were alive at all. That had worried Hayley greatly, but then she'd become a bit distracted by subsequent events.

She'd probably find out more at the next day's meeting. Then there'd probably be more of the same all over again. She sighed. Eventually, the gentle rocking of the yacht put her to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

St Martin's, Scilly Isles, Cornwall  
March 23, CY 1, 2012 AD

David Downes, Director of Celtic Woman--well, he thought, former Director of what used to be Celtic Woman, as he could count on two hands the number of the group's members who hadn't died in that bus crash--walked tentatively up the stairs leading from the berthing deck to the Common Room of the schooner _Loriesha_. That much he'd been told.

The noise floating down from above was almost deafening. The leader of what David gathered constituted a band of refugees, one Gareth Perry, had called an all-hands meeting. While David was still uncertain about, well, everything, he'd been promised some answers.

He glanced back at the remaining Celtic Woman members minus four. They wore concerned expressions. “Don't worry,” he said, “it'll be fine.” He wasn't entirely convinced himself. There was just too much about all of it that confused him.

David crested the top of the stairs and looked about. The room was full of people. They sat on chairs, on the floor, children on laps. Some stood, and others still drifted into the room, jostling for space. Many of them wore the same grey-green woolen tunics—and trousers for the men--he and his had been given. He'd been told his own clothing had been beat up even worse than he had, so it had been destroyed.

He scanned the room, looking for any familiar faces. He wasn't expecting to find many. Actually, he was only expecting maybe a half-dozen: the four soloists who'd been assigned to the other ship—Amphitrite, he thought it was called—and the two people who'd done whatever it was to heal his severed spinal cord. That was yet another question he wanted answered.

He finally caught sight of Hayley Westenra, Chloe Agnew, Orla Fallon and Mairead Nesbitt. At first, he almost didn't recognize Orla and Mairead. Both women had their hair tied up in a bun, which was unusual. They nearly always wore it down and David could about count on one hand the number of times he'd seen them wear it otherwise. Orla's looked particularly odd that way, as it was barely long enough for that. It was also a curious metallic color, almost like burnished bronze. It wasn't that he was a fashion expert, but one didn't work as closely with women as he did for as long as he had without having picked up a few things.

The four Celtic Women were huddled in a far corner. Actually, maybe huddled wasn't quite the right word. They didn't seem particularly afraid, or even nervous like David himself felt. Though he was sure they must have had the same questions he did. If anything, they looked a little tired. That wouldn't have been surprising considering all they'd endured over the last several days.

David hadn't quite decided whether or not to wave, when Hayley met his gaze. He saw her face light up. She nudged Chloe and pointed in David's direction. She, too, smiled, and energetically motioned to him. He and the others—Ray Fean, Andreja Malir, John O'Brian, and Rosemary Collier—made their way over to the other women.

“David!” said Hayley. “You're...walking! I thought you were paralyzed.”

“I was,” said David. “They...erm...fixed me. Hurt like...” He exhaled. “...like nothing you could imagine.”

“I don't know,” said Chloe, “I think I could.”

“Like every nerve in your whole body being on fire?”

“Well,” said Chloe, “half of them, anyway.”

“More than your ankle?”

“Oh, no, the ankle was the only thing broken. It's...something else. You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

David chuckled ruefully. How could he explain to her what had been done to him? He barely believed it himself, let alone understood it. “After what they did to me, I'm almost ready to believe anything.”

“Good,” said Hayley, “because you're going to need all the believing you can muster.”

“Nice clothes, by the way,” said Chloe.

David looked down. “Oh...right. It's...strangely comfortable.”

“Isn't it, though?”

Ray leaned in and lowered his voice. “We should get out of here,” he said quietly, “and quickly.”

“Why?” said Hayley.

“I...I don't think all these people are...people.”

Hayley shot Ray a quizzical look. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean...I don't think most of them are...human.”

“Why's that a problem?”

Ray shot Hayley a concerned look. “You mean...I'm right?”

Hayley nodded.

“Hayley, they're dangerous.”

“Not to us, they're not.”

“Ray,” said David, “Please.” He looked at Hayley and the others. “But he does have a point. How do you know they're not dangerous...people who can do what they can? And how well do you know them?”

“Seriously, David?” said Chloe. “They fixed us up...and fed us and clothed us and gave us somewhere comfortable to sleep. And they have children. So far, they've been nothing but perfectly courteous and welcoming. I think they're just trying to survive.”

“And one of them dove in after Chloe when she fell overboard,” said Hayley.

“Oh?” said David. He looked at Chloe. “Are you...of course you're okay. Did...”

“Is everyone here?” said a man loudly from the middle of the room. David guessed he was probably the Gareth Perry who'd called the meeting.

“We'll talk about it more later,” said Hayley quietly.

“Raise your hand if you're not here,” said a young man who looked an awful lot like Gareth and was probably his son. A few people groaned.

David and the others found some space as Hayley and Chloe leaned back against the bulkhead.

“Right,” said Gareth. “Does anyone know of anyone who's not here yet?” There was silence. “Splendid,” he said. “Then we'll begin. We have a number of things to cover, so I hope you're all comfortable. I'll try to keep it brief, beginning with a few introductions.

“I'm Gareth Perry, Captain of Amphitrite...that's the yacht over there...” He motioned portside.

“And our intrepid leader,” said the young man.

Gareth smiled. “Not sure about the intrepid part. The other three members of our Survival Committee...and if anyone comes up with a better name, feel free to make suggestions...are my brother-in-law Howell Jenkins...”

“Pendragon,” said a well-dressed man.

Gareth sighed. “Thank-you, ya-Howell...I think...Pendragon, who's Captain of Loriesha...this ship. Also, Wilfrid and Osric.” Two men raised their hands as their names were mentioned. “Any administrative concerns can be brought to us.

“Our medical personnel are Howell's wife Sophie...” A silver-haired, very pregnant woman raised her hand. “...her sister Lettie...” A brown-haired, equally pregnant woman raised her hand. David recognized both of them as the ones who'd healed him. “...and my wife Megan.” A woman with soft pink and forest-green hair raised her hand.

“My daughter Mari...” A young woman who looked a lot like Gareth and stood next to him raised her hand. “...is our Quartermistress. She's also partly responsible for teaching the children. She'd had her sights set on a Doctor of Philosophy in child psychology, but for reasons that will become apparent, that won't be happening. Suffice it to say, she loves children and is very good with them.

“Now, partly for the sake of those who weren't at the Mountain Ash meeting, partly to answer some questions we didn't acknowledge earlier, and partly to clarify a few things we've learned since then, I'll summarize what's happened.

“At midnight on the seventeenth, a magical energy wave swept around the planet and pushed Earth slightly out of phase. Consequently, electricity, high-pressure gases, and rapid combustion don't work. Our encounters with British Army personnel confirmed that gunpowder no longer combusts explosively. We think we can safely assume that other forms of rapid thermo-chemical reaction won't work either. But we haven't tested those, so until we come across some nitroglycerine, or a hydrogen or propane tank anyone's itching to try to blow up, we won't know for sure.

“And it's not just here. We've been in contact via magic mirror with both Suliman in New Ingary and with some friends in Argentina. They confirm the same observations. That's unsurprising, as it's impossible for only part of the planet to be out of phase. So, yes, it's global.

“Furthermore, we have reason to believe that the Shift is permanent. The energy used to do it, which was considerable, came from a supernova. It's therefore statistically impossible that we'll have access to that kind of energy even beyond the foreseeable future.

“We also know that hardly anyone else is aware of any of this. At this point, only us, New Ingary, and our Argentinian friends are aware of the extent or severity of the problem. Unfortunately, we know enough about how slowly the wheels of bureaucracy turn that we decided to leave the country, rather than try to convince anyone.

“While we know the Shift is permanent, we don't know whether its effects are. If they're not, we don't know how long it will take for, say, electricity to start working again, or to what capacity. So far as we know, it looks like we're stuck like this. We've agreed that at this juncture, it's best to assume that we are. The upshot of all of this is that things are going to go from bad to worse and probably very quickly. We're in what Neil has called a technopocalypse.

“That has some very bad ramifications. Ever aircraft that was in the air at the time crashed, likely killing all aboard. Autos and trains crashed. Ships are adrift at sea. Anyone on any sort of life support...iron lungs, pacemakers, and so forth...is either already dead or will be soon. Anyone with a medical condition requiring medication has exactly until their current prescription runs out to find another way to treat their condition. This is easily the second-worst thing that's ever happened to our world.”

“Second-worst?” blurted a man. “What could possibly have been worse?”

“Noah's flood.”

A few murmurs floated about the room.

“Secondly, I need to bring some of you up to speed on the Ingarian situation. What we're about to share with you all is something that, up until now, only my immediate family and a few others have known. We were preparing to go public with this soon anyway, so we may as well do it here.

“For a long time, we humans have entertained the idea that we're not alone in the Universe. Most of us are familiar with Star Wars, Star Trek, and any number of alien invasion movies, books, and so forth. The reality turns out to be closer to, say, Babylon-Five. Aliens have been visiting Earth for thousands of years without our knowledge. Some of us in this room have been working with some of them for years.”

David could barely believe what he was hearing. It was remarkable! Maybe he was wrong about his apprehension. He hoped so. He was quickly aware that he very much wished to work with...with an alien.

“And,” continued Gareth, “since some two thirds of the people in this room are aliens, I expect, and hope, that you'll all have plenty of opportunities to get to know and work with each other. I have and I've never regretted a single moment.” A smile spread across Gareth's face.

“But that doesn't mean I'm a damn bit happy about how that came about,” said Gareth, his smile fading. “In fact, it's the worst thing I or anyone else could possibly imagine. Most of us are familiar with the red supergiant star Betelgeuse located in what we call the constellation Orion. What Earth astronomers don't know is that Betelgeuse had five main-sequence stars orbiting it. Four of those stars held habitable worlds. Three of those worlds supported sentient life. Ingary and its sun Lirosh were among them.”

Past tense? thought David. Gareth really wasn't going where he seemed to be going...was he? No, that did not sound good at all.

“Five years ago, Betelgeuse, which Ingarians called Krakanen, went supernova. Earth astronomers have known for a while that it would happen. Ingarians knew, too, but the event was two hundred years early. Preparations were only in their infancy. Consequently...” Gareth visibly choked back a tear. Megan rubbed Gareth's back. “...only some three hundred fifty thousand out of three billion managed to escape. Most of them live on Kupreanof Island in southeastern Alaska.”

David noticed Orla choking and sniffling slightly. Orla had a big heart and David had always appreciated that about her. He supposed that contributed to her reputation as “the shy redhead from Cnoc an Eanaigh.”

“We've suspected,” said Gareth, “that there may have been a few Ingarians already on Earth at the time who may not have known. Sadly, we were right.” He motioned in David's general direction. “Ya-Orla? Ya-Marido?” Orla and Mairead waved. “Orla and Marido only learned about this yesterday.” A murmur went through the assembly. A few people nearby reached over and gave Orla's and Mairead's arms and shoulders sympathetic squeezes. “There are forty-seven Ingarians on this ship, not including yourselves. Every one of them has been through what you are right now. They know exactly how you're feeling. Except some of the children are too young to remember much. Each one of them has lost at least one loved one. Some of them lost everyone they ever knew and a few of them watched it happen. We spent weeks getting their stories and every one of them...” He paused and choked back a few tears. Megan stepped up and put a hand on his shoulder, wiping a tear from her own cheek. He cleared his throat. “...broke our hearts all over again. You have an excellent support group. Please don't hesitate to use it, for we won't hesitate to help you.”

David gaped at the two women. Gareth couldn't be serious...could he? Were Orla and Mairead really aliens? And why did he call Mairead “Marido?”

“Orla's husband and son were killed in the initial shock-wave. I understand she saw it happen while on a mirror-call with them. Is that right?”

Orla nodded while tears trickled down her cheeks. She sniffed. Chloe reached over and gave her a one-armed hug.

Mairead...or was it Marido...smiled weakly and rubbed at one of Orla's shoulders while someone else reached over and gently squeezed her arm.

“Marido...is apparently adopted, so while she might not have known her immediate birth family, she still bears the pain of the loss of her world. And her own husband died in a vehicle crash several days ago.”

Mairead...Marido...sniffled. “He...he died in my arms.” Then she broke down into tears.

Hayley gave Marido a hug and someone else reached out and rubbed her shoulder.

“Oh, dear Lord,” said Andreja.

“The scale and nature of this tragedy,” said Gareth, “is...difficult to grasp and that's an understatement. Most of us can visit a grave-site, or at least go to where a loved one died. All the Ingarians can do is stand here and point to a little red light more than two point six _quadrillion_ miles away. Maybe people who had friends or family on the Challenger or the Discovery have some idea of what that's like.

“Earth was the only place they could go on such short notice. They literally had two hours to evacuate Ingary. And now they're an endangered species.”

David suddenly realized he was holding his breath. He let it out. He supposed that if Orla and...Marido...were...Ingarian, then his initial apprehensions must be wrong. It also meant that he'd been working with aliens for years and hadn't known it! Moreover, his own problems suddenly seemed woefully insignificant.

“Now for some good news,” said Gareth.

“Firstly, as we expected, we're better-armed and better-equipped than any other fighting force in the world, with the exception of New Ingary. We don't know how long we can expect that to last, but for now, we have the upper hand militarily over everyone else. Hell, we could theoretically repel the whole British Army.”

“And free Northern Ireland?” said Ray.

“Theoretically, yes. Not sure we should tackle that, though. That situation may ultimately resolve itself anyway, and I suspect that many international borders will change in the coming years. The point is that we're currently capable of overcoming any force-based threat. Like I said, we don't expect that to last. After the dust settles, so to speak, we expect surviving groups to have retooled everything, including their respective militaries. I'll be getting to that in a bit, but we're in good shape for a while.

“Secondly, as of this moment, we possess the most advanced medicine on the planet, with New Ingary a close second.”

“Well,” said Megan, “actually we had the best medicine already. Only now has the gap grown into a rift.”

“You mean there's a trauma ward on this ship?” said Rosemary.

“Don't be ridiculous,” said a young man. “What good would a trauma ward be without electricity?”

“Rhys has a point,” said Gareth. “Fortunately, we don't need electricity. We have Sophie.”

“What's a Sophie?” said Ray.

“I beg your pardon,” said Sophie. David still thought she looked far too young to have hair that color. She sounded annoyed.

“Sophie,” said Gareth, “is the most powerful empathic healer in the world. She also happens to be Ingarian. Between her, Lettie, Megan, and a few others, we can perform any medical procedure known to man and a great many that aren't. Furthermore, we can do almost all of it non-invasively.”

“I recognize you,” said Ray crossly. “You're the one who...who...did whatever the hell you did to us.”

Sophie crossed her arms defiantly. With her sitting down and her pregnant belly sticking out, the effect, which David supposed was meant to be intimidating, was...well, he wasn't quite sure, but it seemed to lack something. “We healed you. We also fixed some of your other...problems.”

“You did things to us without our consent?” said Rosemary irritably.

Sophie gazed back at Rosemary and held her gaze. “If you would like, we can give it back to you. But I think you would rather stay as you are now.”

“So,” said David, “aside from...putting us back together, what else did you do to us? You haven't exactly been forthcoming about it.”

“You have been...how you say, out of it?”

“And just how did you...do whatever you did?”

“Magic,” said Sophie.

David raised an eyebrow.

“People,” said Gareth, “we can go over that later. Let's keep the discussion relevant to all, shall we? Otherwise, we'll be here all day just going over everyone's medical charts. Sophie, would you be so kind as to debrief these people following the meeting?”

“Of course,” said Sophie. “I am always happy to share our work. You know that. But please do not be so upset with us. We have an oath to help, just as you do.”

“Sure,” said Andreja. “But could you at least have asked us first?”

“Later,” said Gareth. “Anyways, I've talked with some of you about various medical concerns. Two of you are diabetics...which, considering that we have no insulin and no way of procuring any, would be fatal to you. Then there's asthma, fibromyalgia, arthritis, sciatica, cancer, and allergies, just to name a few. Fortunately, we can fix all that for you. My family and I are case studies, if you will.”

“At what cost?” said a man.

“I already told you,” said Gareth, “nothing. And that goes for the rest of you, including and especially those of you we've already treated. You owe us nothing.”

“The point,” said Megan, “is that all further medical concerns can be freely brought to any of us. While we don't have formal business hours as such, please respect things like privacy and our need to sleep.”

“Third, said Gareth, “Chloe Agnew...” He gestured again in David's general direction. “...who joined us at Pontypridd...is a mermaid!”

“You are?” said Andreja.

“How is that good news?” said Chloe.

“There's no such thing,” said Ray.

“Isn't it wonderful?” said Marido.

“No!” said Chloe. “No, it isn't!”

“Why not?” said Orla.

“Because it hurt like a bugger!” said Chloe.

“So does childbirth,” said Megan.

“But childbirth is natural!”

“So is being a mermaid.”

“Why didn't you tell us before?” said David.

“Because I didn't know until yesterday.”

“I thought you couldn't swim,” said Andreja.

“I can't.”

“A mermaid who can't swim?” said Ray.

“Right,” said Gareth, reining things in again, “it looks like this is a bit more complicated than I thought. We should discuss it further, but maybe after the meeting.”

“Ya-Chloe,” said Mari, “Maybe you should consider taking Miss Gwenliani Belian under your...fin. She's a mermaid, too, and only seven years old. I think you could learn some things from each other. It'd be good for you both.”

“That's not a bad idea,” said Gareth. “Please think about it. Finally, we have a few housekeeping matters. As I said earlier, Howell, Osric, Wilfrid, and myself make up our Survival Committee. In other words, we're in charge. Any concerns can be brought to any of us. Now, at this point, we're not implementing a formal chain of command. The one exception is that my son Neil...” A young man who looked a lot like Gareth waved. “...is my second-in-command. He'll be in charge of Amphitrite in my stead. I don't believe Howell has designated a second at this point, but we'll keep you all posted. Otherwise, we've decided a chain of command would be a bit of a headache and it's really not necessary at this juncture.” He looked at Megan.

“Sophie, Lettie, and I,” said Megan, “are the medical staff. Please refer any medical concerns to us. In addition, we'd like to do a full medical work-up on everyone. We feel it's important to know who has what. It's also an opportunity to take care of some conditions...permanently. You may have noticed that Sophie and Lettie are expecting soon. My daugher-in-law is, as well. They're all due at the same time and we have reason to believe they'll all go into labor on the same day, if not the same hour. I'm only one person, so I'm going to need plenty of help. After that, they'll have their hands full with their new babies, so we'll still need help. So if you have medical training, or would like some, please talk to me.”

“It's come to our attention,” said Mari, “that some of you are missing some possessions. A few things were surely mixed up in the chaos and may have ended up in the hold, or on the wrong ship. If you have any questions about that, supplies, and such, please direct them to me. It's my job to keep track of what we have as far as food and other provisions. I'll need an assistant assigned to Loriesha, so if that's something you think you might be willing to do, please talk to me. Also, let's be stingy with the toilet paper, shall we? We don't have a lot of it and there are some...erm...issues with the toilets.”

“The most important thing right now,” continued Gareth, “is safety. Since we're at sea, we need everyone to be aware of the water. That's especially relevant since we have so many children aboard. We already had one person fall overboard. Fortunately, a strong swimmer immediately went in after her and she turned out to be a mermaid anyway. But we expect her case to be unique. For that reason, I want everyone to know how to swim. Megan, Mari, Neil, Martha, and Charmaini have volunteered to teach you. So if you don't know how to swim, talk to Megan. If you do know how and would like to help teach, please talk to Megan. Furthermore, I'd like Chloe to be on more or less permanent life-guard duty.”

Chloe sighed. “I suppose. Besides, it's not like I'm going to let someone drown just because I don't want to sprout a tail again. And...sure, I'll...help with Gwenliani.”

“Thank-you, ya-Chloe. We do appreciate that.

“As another safety concern, be aware that Ingarians are physiologically different from humans. There are things they can eat that are toxic to us, and vice-versa. While there's a fair amount of overlap, our respective species have different tastes with regard to palatability. They're also lactose- and gluten-intolerant. So that's going to make meals a bit tricky. We're trying to avoid cooking separate meals for humans and Ingarians, but that's under development. Howell and Sophie have managed it, so it's possible. Neil's wife Nalaya...” Another pregnant woman waved. “...has volunteered to supervise that. We'll need galley staff on each ship, so if you'd like to help with that, please talk to her. Though once her baby is born, she'll likely only be supervising for a while. Another thing, alcohol is _highly_ toxic to Ingarians...fatally so.”

“It is not!” protested Ray.

“It is, so,” retorted Orla.

“Ai,” said Marido.

“Then explain to me,” said Ray, “why I've seen you...” He nodded to Orla. “...drinking Guiness more times than I can count.”

“I only made it look like I was drinking it.”

“And yet it's always gone when you're done. Just how did you do that? And don't say, 'Magic.'”

Orla smiled. “Magic,” she said.

Ray groaned.

“Are you familiar with the story of the wedding at Cana?” asked Orla.

Ray nodded.

“That's more or less what I do, only in reverse.”

“You turn wine into water?”

Orla shrugged. “More or less. Stuff's quite vile without the fizz, though, let me tell you.”

“But you like it!”

“No, I only pretended to like it. I truly can't stand the stuff.”

Unbelievable, thought David.

“While we're on the subject of toxicity, tobacco smoke is also highly toxic to Ingarians. It's pretty damn toxic to us, too, it just takes longer to kill us. That's why we've been so adamant about disallowing all forms of tobacco. I know a few of you are smokers. You're quitting...end of story. If you don't like it, we'll put you ashore. But seeing as it's going to be bloody near impossible to obtain more, you'll be quitting by default anyway. So you may as well do it here where we can quite literally cure you of the damn thing.”

Hayley raised her hand. “Um...Mister Perry?”

“Yes, ya-Hayley?”

“Back on food...erm...I'm vegan.”

“Thank-you for mentioning that. That and other dietary particulars have been brought to our attention. All other things being equal, I'd respect them. Unfortunately, things are not equal. Anything that's not poisonous to humans is going to have to be on your menu. You'll have to get over it, I'm afraid. Otherwise, my own family had turned to a gluten- and lactose-free diet. It's just made things so much easier with so many Ingarians eating with us. It's had a positive effect on our health, too. So we've stocked our stores with goat and sheep milk and cheese, various types of non-wheat flours, biscuits, crackers, as well as unground oats, spelt, millet, buckwheat, and so on.” Gareth returned his attention to the rest of the group.

“Now, we have about six months of food stores on Amphitrite, give or take, depending on whether or not all of you choose to remain with us and on whether or not we take any others aboard. Howell reports that he has a full year's worth. The Ingarians continue to impress me with their food-storage skills and they've collectively brought over four additional months' worth of canned and dried food with them. Keep in mind, though, that a lot of it's unfit for human consumption, as it were.

“It's critical that no one ever eats anything unless you know _exactly_ what it is. If in doubt, consult with Neil. He's the world's leading expert on xenobiology, phytochemistry, and ethnobotany pertaining specifically to Ingarians.”

“Is that,” said Rhys, “why you stopped gaming with us?”

“Yes,” said Neil. “I told you it was important and it is. This...” He gestured at the room. “...is why. Their survival, and that of the other three hundred fifty thousand Ingarians, depended largely on their being able to eat. They had no knowledge of any of our vegetation and at the time, we didn't know much about their occasional visitations to Earth. They're an endangered species. But they're also friends...” He squeezed Nalaya's hand and smiled at her. “...and family. We love them. That's why I had to drop everything else.”

“I...I had no idea,” said Rhys soberly.

“I still feel bad about not telling you. But we had to keep it all quiet. Secret government labs, Area Fifty-one...you know? Anyway, yes, if you have questions about food, please ask me. Mashed potatoes and mashed bluebell bulbs look a _lot_ alike and you _don't_ want to confuse them.”

“Thank-you, son,” said Gareth. “Our refrigeration unit doesn't work, but given the weather, that's not likely to be a big problem. Still, we'll want to eat what's in there before it spoils. At some point, we're going to want to harvest fish and kelp. The kelp will help a lot with micronutrients and help avoid certain nutritional issues. It's also delicious. Ya-Chloe, can we count on your assistance with that?”

Chloe groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Well, no, but we'd sure appreciate it. Your unique skill-set is invaluable for anything that will have to be done underwater. Perhaps that's something you and Gwenliani can do together. At least think about it. In the meantime, we'd like to take a closer look at your mermaid ability. If we understand it better, we might be able to do something about those unfortunate side-effects you reported.

“One very, very important thing...if you think it might be cool to have sex with an Ingarian, think again. There are certain...erm...fluids that react badly and fatally so. Conjugation requires us to modify your DNA and that's very serious business. If you ignore this, it will kill you.”

“And I,” said Howell crossly, “will personally haul your body over there...” He gestured southward. “...chop you up into little bitty pieces, and toss them onto France! If that's not clear, I'll gladly beat it into you. It is _not_ negotiable and in case you're thinking it, condoms are _not_ a solution. We don't have any anyway. So, just...don't.”

“Also,” continued Gareth, “I strongly suggest that everyone learn Ingarian. While every Ingarian on this ship, with the exception of a few of the youngest children, understands English, only a few of them can speak it well. Most Ingarians have a great deal of trouble speaking other languages. No one knows why, though the leading theory is that it has something to do with their neural architecture. The point is that a few of them can speak passable English, some only broken, and a few not at all. Orla and Marido are what we call All-Speakers...people with the magical ability to speak other languages. While I'm not inclined to require everyone to learn Ingarian, it will certainly help with communication. It will also help you get to know them and that's something I highly recommend. They're very charming people and we've fallen in love with them. We've found that our people are an awful lot alike in every way that matters.

“Now, we don't really know where we're going from here. It's come to my attention that some of you are interested in looking for friends and family. We're certainly amenable to exploring that option. If you have any proposals, please submit them in writing to any of the Committee. We'll be discussing that later this afternoon and into the evening. Keep in mind that as time goes on, such things will become increasingly difficult as the situation deteriorates.

“In the meantime, we have a number of projects. As it stands, Amphitrite isn't particularly seaworthy. She has no effective propulsion beyond basic maneuvering, and that requires continual magical input to keep the screws turning. All her systems rely either on electricity or diesel power, both of which are dead. That means lighting, cooking, heat, and water, which includes wastewater treatment. She's going to need a complete overhaul. All those systems will need to be replaced by something that runs on either pre-industrial technology, or magic. We're going to need a lot of help with that. While haven't established a time-line yet, I expect it could take a while. Ya-Einion, I'd like you and Gwerfyla to supervise.”

A young man stepped forward. “Thanks...I think. No pressure, eh? So, we already have rudimentary illumination. The green glow is from that bioluminescent fungus stuff. It's apparently harmless...at least, it better be...but not very bright. The greatest need for better lighting is in the common areas, particularly the kitchen.”

“What about our quarters?” said a man.

“Well...it's not like we need to see while we're sleeping, eh? The fans for venting gases from the kitchen's propane burners don't work, so we haven't done much cooking. So we're mostly limited to making tea. We'll need to address that soon if we want to eat warm meals on a regular basis.

“Amphitrite has some fifty thousand gallons of freshwater, but the pumps for it don't work. Furthermore, wastewater reclamation systems don't work either. Those two things pose the greatest health risks. They'll be our first priority, followed by kitchen venting, then propulsion.

“We still need more brainstorming, though, so I'd like anyone who has any experience related to things like fabrication and engineering to please see me after this meeting. Oh, yeah...and that magic stuff. We'll need people who know how to do that, too. Gareth thinks we should emulate and adapt a lot of what Howell has designed and installed here on Loriesha.”

“He had the foresight,” said Neil, “to build her using entirely mechanical and magical systems.”

“Well,” said Howell, “I don't know about foresight. I just trust the mechanical and magical more than the so-called higher-tech.”

“So _now_ you're being modest?” said Megan.

Howell smiled. “I'm just saying,” he said smugly, “that, well, I wanted a pure ship. I didn't want her to be...defiled.”

Megan and Gareth rolled their eyes nearly in unison. “Propulsion,” said Gareth, “will probably involve some form of magical sail, so ya-Charmaini, I'd like you to work with Einion on that.

“Most of the other projects involve training. Megan's already mentioned the medical training and swimming. It's likely we'll also need combat training. We have the equipment, but it's useless if we don't know how to use it effectively. We're likely to need that, unfortunately. We have a few former military, as well as some proficient in various martial arts, so I'd like you all...and you know who you are...to talk to me after this meeting.

“Oh, and just because we're in what my son so eloquently calls a technopocalypse, that doesn't give you children 'get out of school free' cards, as it were.”

Most of the children in the room let out utterances of dismay.

“Now, now,” said Mari. “You all know school can be fun. And to make things more interesting, we'll be changing the curriculum according to the needs of this...erm...new world of ours. School won't be like it was. That means you'll get to do things like archery and sword-fighting.” That made the children cheer. “That's in addition to the swimming.” That brought more cheers.

“Speaking of training,” said Howl, “we could use more magi. I hope I've...” Sophie cleared her throat subtly. “...we've...made a suitable impression on you all. So you've seen some of what we can do with magic. I believe magic has the potential to take the place of technology. To that end, we need more people who can wield it effectively. Some of you are likely already interested. However, be aware that you don't choose magic so much as magic chooses you, as it were. Some of you have the ability to use magic and some of you don't.”

“Like in Harry Potter?” said a boy.

“Exactly so, yes. If I talk to you about it, that means you're one of those people. Please consider agreeing to learn.”

“This is absurd,” said a man. “Magic? Aliens? Are you bloody joking?”

“I beg your pardon!” said Sophie.

“How do we know they're not the vanguard of an invading army?”

“Are you bloody insane?” said Neil. “Does Nalaya look like she's part of an invading army? Or any of these children? Look, you dream of Star Trek, yet fear 'V,' when what we really have is 'District-Nine.' These people are not a threat. They're just trying to survive and now, so are we.”

“You don't have to like it,” said Gareth, “because none of the rest of us do. If you don't want to work with us or follow our rules, I'll arrange to put you ashore. No one's forcing you to stay here against your will. But let me remind you that you did choose to come with us in the first place.”

“That was before I knew they were aliens.”

“What difference does it make?” asked Neil. “They're people! We're people! We're all people! Get over it!”

“He's right,” said Orla. “Do you not think, that if we were going to do anything to you, we would have done it already? Besides, there are still seven billion of you.”

“Loramin, ya-Orla,” thank-you, said Neil. “It's just as true that we fear what we don't understand. So get to know the Ingarians. Then maybe you'll understand them a little. Then I think you'll stop being afraid of them.”

“But why?” said a woman.

“Why what?” said Gareth.

“Why...that Shift? Why us? Why do we survive when others don't? I feel so...adrift.” Nods and murmurs of assent floated about the room.

“We're called,” said Orla. “For what reason, we don't know, nor may we ever. But we should answer.”

Then Orla began to sing.

“Sometimes in this life we hear, calling from somewhere,

“Sometimes it is loud and clear, sometimes it's so softly there.” She glanced at Chloe, who took up the song.

“Sometimes it is in the sea, sometimes in the sky.” She looked at Hayley, who likewise continued.

“Sometimes it's in you and me, and sometimes it's a cry!” The three of them were joined by Marido.

“Open your hearts, I am calling you!

“Right from the very start, your wounded heart was calling, too

“Open your arms, you will find the answer when you answer to the Call!”

Orla, Chloe, and Hayley took turns with the next lines and soon began to move about, looking first from one person to the other. David was intrigued. They seemed to be giving an impromptu performance and he had to almost literally sit on his own hands to avoid trying to conduct.

“Sometimes it is in desire, or in the love we fear.”

“When the call keeps calling us 'till the fear will disappear.”

“When we have no dance to dance, the call is in the song.”

“When we have no voice to sing, then the call is calling strong!” All four again joined their voices, and their hands.

“Open your hearts, I am calling you!

“Right from the very start, your wounded heart was calling, too

“Open your arms, you will find the answer when you answer to the Call!” Orla motioned to the assembly and everyone joined the women.

“Open your hearts, I am calling you!

“Right from the very start, your wounded heart was calling, too

“Open your arms, you will find the answer when you answer to the Call!”

Then Orla sang the last couple of lines, but in Ingarian. To David's surprise, most of the other Ingarians, including Marido, joined her.

“Thushurnorsi soanongo

“We thuanranthi asrothilem sourisal!”

That left more smiles in the room than David had seen in a while.

“Oh, blimey,” said Rhys. “Did I just witness 'Technopocalypse the Musical?'”

Orla grinned. “Maybe,” she said mischievously.

“That was beautiful!” said Megan.

“It's what they do,” said David.

“I don't suppose,” said Mari, “that you'd be willing to teach music?”

“Oh, we'd love that!” said Hayley.

Marido turned to Chloe. “You know, I seem to recall you saying that if you weren't a musical performer, you'd be working with children.”

“That's true,” said Chloe pensively. “I did.” She smiled. “Maybe I will.”

“Oh, good!” said Mari.

“Well,” said Gareth, “I think that's all I have.” At first, nobody moved. Gareth made a shooing motion. “Well, don't just sit there. Go mingle!”

One by one, people stood up. Every one of the Ingarians made their way over to Orla and Marido, gave each of them a firm hug and spoke a few words to them before filing out of the room.

David could easily see the small, bony horns protruding from their elbows. They stuck out what looked like a good two inches. He couldn't help but stare. How had they been hiding those? Perhaps Chloe could have, as she nearly always wore long sleeves, even on stage, but she was human, her currently bare arms bearing witness to that. But the others almost always wore something sleeveless on stage. That was to say nothing of sleeping arrangements while on tour. Surely one of the other women would have noticed.

After all the Ingarians had left the room, most of the humans also offered condolences, half of which consisted of wordless hugs. David didn't blame them. Who could? How would one begin to talk about such a thing, even if one had shared the experience?

After a short while, only the remnant of Celtic Woman was left in the room. David and his companions also gave Orla and Marido hugs. For them, though, it was more personal. Orla and Marido were both good friends of everyone in Celtic Woman. Jim had been, too.

“Why...why didn't you tell us?” asked David, gesturing at Orla's and Marido's elbows.

“Because,” said Orla, “you would have treated us differently. I didn't want that. Marido's situation is...more complicated.”

“Why do you keep calling her that?” said Rosemary.

“That's my name,” said Marido, “my real name.”

“What does your family...I mean, the Nesbitts...think?” said David.

“They...they don't know.”

“Oh, dear,” said Hayley.

“I feel sort of bad about that.” Marido sighed. “And now I might not ever have a chance to tell them.” She began to tear up.

“What about,” said John, “that written proposal thing?”

“Oh!” said Orla. “Of course! I...I've been a bit distracted. I'm sorry.”

“No,” said Andreja. “Don't be.”

“You really should look into that...erm...Marido,” said Chloe.

“And what about you?” said Hayley to Chloe.

“What about me, what?”

“You're...a mermaid. I'd think you'd want some answers about that.”

“You have no idea,” said Chloe.

“You should write a proposal, too,” said John.

Chloe sighed. “Sure,” she said noncommittally. Chloe suddenly looked down and David followed her gaze.

A little girl stood there, gazing up at Chloe. “Nal-heratha,” she said.

“What?” said Chloe.

“Nal-heratha. Gwenliani miliwinem.”

“Oh!” said Chloe. She knelt down to place herself closer to eye-level with the girl. “You must be the other mermaid.”

“Ai,” said the girl as she nodded.

“Erm...you do realize I have absolutely no idea what you just said. Except that you're Gwenliani.”

The girl just giggled.

Chloe reached out carefully and gently took Gwenliani's hands in her own. “But I promise I'll learn. And...I'm looking forward to...to swimming with you.” Gwenliani pulled her hands out of Chloe's and gave her a hug. Chloe hugged back.

David couldn't help but grin. Soon, the girl let go and padded out of the room. “You do realize,” said David after Gwenliani had left, “that you just hugged an alien, don't you?”

Chloe eyed him. “Of course I do. And she's adorable! And...erm...Orla and Marido are aliens, too, remember? Hayley and I have been taking turns giving both of them hugs practically all day yesterday.”

“Yes, but you already knew them. To us, they're just Orla and Mairead.”

“That's as it should be,” said Orla. “If you choose to stay with us, you'll come to know my people as individuals the way you know me and Marido as individuals.” She paused. “Is it just me, or is it a bit stuffy in here as of now?” She walked over to a window and opened it, then another, then another. “That's better.” She sat down and the others joined her.

“Nice hair, by the way,” said Rosemary, gesturing to Orla's head.

“Oh!” laughed Orla. “Do you like it?”

“Very much. Though I've never seen a color quite like it.”

“And you never will.”

“Do tell...what'd you use?”

“Magic.”

Rosemary raised an eyebrow.

“No, really,” said Orla. “It was magic. Unintentional, of course. When I made my staff, the magic turned my hair this color.” She turned to Marido. “Ya-Marido? Remind me to ask Mari about that.” Marido nodded.

“It would look lovely hangin' down,” said Andreja.

Orla's smile faded. “I...I can't...shouldn't.”

“Why not?”

“Now that I'm no longer pretending to be a human, I should...mind the customs of my people.”

“What custom is that?” said John.

“Widows...” She stifled a tear. “...always wear their hair in a bun. Except in private.”

“Oh.” John gave her a hug and then gave one to Marido. “I...I'm sorry.”

“Erm,” said Ray, “if you don't mind me asking...if you don't drink ale, what DO you drink?”

“Vinegar,” said Orla.

“What?”

“Vinegar. I could drink it all day.”

Chloe and Hayley both shuddered.

“You know,” said Hayley, “I like a good balsamic vinegar salad dressing as much as the next girl, but...do you really?”

“By the pint,” said Orla cheerily.

“It would explain,” said Chloe, “why she puts so much of it on her fish and chips.”

“The more, the better,” said Orla.

“I agree,” said Marido. She turned to Orla. “Remember when you 'accidentally...'” She made air quotes. “...let that ale go too long and the fermentation went straight to vinegar?”

Orla nodded and grinned. “You haven't experienced a good vinegar until you've had some that was supposed to be alcohol. It's a bit touchy for us, though. We have to make sure _all_ the alcohol is gone.”

“Sounds a bit like processin' tapioca,” said John.

“So,” said David, “to change the subject, I'd be very much interested in hearing some...Ingarian music.”

Orla smiled broadly. “Oh, but you have.”

David's eyebrow went up so forcefully, it almost hurt. “I beg your pardon?”

“What do you think we've been performing?”

“ _WHAT?!_ ” came a round of exclamation.

“No, no,” said David. “That's not possible. You all know as well as I that the arrangements...”

Orla tilted her head expectantly and David trailed off. “'Sky and Dawn and Sun,' 'Awakening,' 'The Call,' 'Ni'l Na La,' 'An Poc Ar Buile,' 'Migldi Magldi'...all Ingarian songs.”

“How?” asked David. “I'd never even heard of Ingary until today.”

“Well,” said Orla, “Marido and I...may have put a bug or two in your ear.”

“You...brainwashed me?!”

Orla snorted. “Don't be ridiculous. We used magic.”

“So,” said Ray, “brainwashing's ridiculous, but magic isn't?”

“Just so,” said Orla. “You know how American country and bluegrass came from Celtic music?”

“Yes,” said David. A pregnant silence followed as Orla inclined her head expectantly. “No! You don't mean...?”

Orla laughed. “Besides, the amount of cross-pollination and parallel development between our worlds is astonishing. We really didn't have to do much.”

“Unbelievable!”

Orla shrugged and smiled. “I tell you, though, that impersonating a human has been the most fun I've ever had standing up.”

That brought a round of laughter. Soon, the Celtic Woman survivors were lost in conversation.

* * *

Chloe Agnew stood on Amphitrite's foredeck. She leaned on the railing, gazing at the setting sun. The final mournful notes of “There is No Light” faded from Marido's violin further afore.

After a couple more minutes, a voice from behind startled her. “Am I interrupting anything?”

Chloe turned to see Marido.

“Oh, no,” said Chloe. “Not really. I was just thinking.”

“About anything in particular?” Marido laid her cased violin on the deck and leaned on the rail beside Chloe.

“Well...everything. Mostly about my mermaid...thing.”

“I understand...at least, about suddenly finding out about being something else.”

“Do you? How?”

“I grew up as a human. I always had strange health issues. I'm told I was very sick as a baby and we all thought it was because of that. It turns out I was switched as an infant. The real Mairead died of her illnesses shortly after that. I didn't know anything about any of it until Orla took me to Ingary on my fourteenth birthday.

“Then she removed the camouflage spells surrounding me and her. That was when she told me the truth.” Marido giggled slightly. “The rest of the following two weeks were...weird. From time to time, I was more or less a raving lunatic, except for when I was asleep. Even then, I tossed and turned.

“I eventually calmed down and Orla showed me some more of Ingary. She'd taken me there several times before, of course. But I'd always thought it was a godmother-goddaughter thing.”

Chloe looked sharply at Marido. “Orla's your godmother?!”

Marido giggled and nodded. “You seem almost as surprised about that as you are about us being aliens.”

“But...she's only five years older than you...isn't she?”

Marido cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe you should ask her yourself. Anyway, after I calmed down, she told me everything. She even taught me to raise and lower the camouflage spell myself and grow my own athalas.”

“What's athalas? Isn't that from 'Lord of the Rings?'”

“Different spelling. It's an herb. Among other things, it forces our immune systems to respond to Earth's pathogens. Otherwise, we have no natural immunity.”

“And that's why you and Orla fell so ill so quickly last week.”

“Precisely. So...the point is, one day, I was a normal human girl with strange health issues and perpetually sore feet. The next, it was, 'Oh, by the way, your real name's Marido and you're actually an extraterrestrial.' It was very traumatic. But I got over it, learned to adapt, and now I embrace what I am.”

Chloe gazed at Marido for a protracted moment. “And Jim? Was he...?”

Marido nodded. “Else I would be dead, yes.”

“How many others are really aliens?”

Marido shrugged. “I've no idea. Jim and I...” She sniffed. “...happened to notice the spells around the other. Maybe we'll find others.”

Chloe sighed. “Thank-you.”

Marido raised an eyebrow. “For...?”

“For helping me put my mermaid thing into perspective. And for understanding. Everyone else thinks it's the greatest thing ever. You seem to be the only one who has any idea how weird it is to suddenly find out you're something else. Suppose it wouldn't be so bad if it didn't hurt so bloody much.”

Marido laughed and Chloe quickly joined her. It was good to hear her friend do that, especially amidst so much heartache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celtic Woman performing "The Call:" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XD6RdI1QqCg
> 
> Mairead performing "There is no Light:" www.youtube.com/watch?v=jDKKdKRvpNk


	3. Chapter 3

St Martin's, Scilly Isles, Cornwall  
March 24, CY 1, 2012 AD

“Nal-heratha, everyone.” Garth Perry stood before the assembly as he had the day before. The diffused morning sun spilled through the starboard-side windows of Loriesha's Common-room.

Hayley Westenra stood near a wall with her friends from Celtic Woman. She figured “nal-heratha” was a greeting that probably meant “good morning.” The revelations of the previous two days still made her head spin. She smiled. Certain tensions seemed to have mostly evaporated. Morale was high, despite Orla's and Marido's lingering emotional pain. Hayley didn't know how long that would last, but seeing that the other Ingarians had healed from their ordeal five years before gave her hope for her friends.

“First,” Gareth continued, “Let's have a moment of silence for the deceased.” He bowed his head and closed his eyes. The room was dead still for what seemed like forever. Hayley was beginning to think Gareth's idea of a moment was rather understated.

“Now,” said Gareth at last, “I have another point of order. I'd like to have these morning meetings every day at least for the next week, then weekly thereafter.

“Second, most of you brought a few books. Wilfrid thinks we should maintain a library of sorts.”

The redheaded girl behind Gareth, whom Hayley recognized as Charmaini, squeed. It made Hayley smile again. Every time she started to dwell on the fact that the Ingarians were aliens, one of them did or said something to remind her that they were just people, too. Other people murmured.

“Now, we're not taking anyone's possessions. We're just compiling a catalog of what's available and who owns it. That way, we all have plenty to read when we're not doing anything, and the children have resources for their education. I'd like Charmaini to oversee that.”

Charmaini's face lit up and she squeed again. She flounced over, her ponytail swishing against her back, threw her arms around Gareth and kissed him on the cheek. Gareth smiled and blushed slightly. The girl clearly had enthusiasm for books. That made Hayley smile again. She was beginning to think her mouth might be doing calisthenics.

Hayley was really beginning to like the people whim whom she'd found herself. She'd somehow felt that from the moment they'd all rushed forward to help her and the other Celtic Woman survivors in Pontypridd. Their treatment of everyone in their charge hadn't changed. They clearly cared deeply about people, despite some of their strict stances on certain things. Though she had to admit that even those made sense, even if many disliked those decisions. Despite some of the grumbling she'd heard, it was clear that grumbling was directed more at policy than at Gareth himself.

“Speaking of possessions,” said Mari, “just because it's my job to keep track of things, that doesn't mean we should just leave our stuff willy-nilly lying 'round. We're not your nanny. Please don't expect those on cleaning rotation to pick up after you. It'll be your turn soon enough, so clean up after yourselves.”

“My daughter has a very good point,” said Gareth. “These ships are your new homes. They're also someone else's homes. Please treat them as such. Which brings me to my next topic...we're implementing flotilla-wide chores. Swabbin' the deck and such like.” That brought groans.

“Well,” said Sophie, “someone must do all of that.”

“Sophie's right,” said Gareth. “For the nonce, we're an autonomous commune. All for one and one for all, as it were. If you're unwilling to help keep us all sailing, land's that way.” He pointed off in some random direction. “Each ship will be responsible for its own division of labor. Each of us will post those rosters in each ship's common-room. Some of those jobs will rotate and others will be adjusted depending on our needs. For example, everyone will take turns washing dishes and such. Others will have permanent duties commensurate with their skills.

“We need better ship-to-ship communication. For now, one of us can either step from one ship to the other, or stand on one and yell. But once we're underway, we'll need something like semaphore and Morse code. Even that requires someone on each ship who knows those. It's also cumbersome.”

“Fortunately,” said Howl smugly, “we have these.” He held up one of the magic mirrors in its strange blue-ish metal frame. “I intend to make two larger ones. We'll mount one here on Loriesha and one on Amphitrite. Then we'll be able to communicate much more efficiently.”

“Will it be like on Star Trek?” Einion asked.

“Yes. It'll be exactly like Star Trek.”

“Brilliant!”

“But,” said Gareth, “we're still debating whether to mount them on the bridges or the common-rooms.”

“We may,” said Neil, “have to resort to 'rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock.'”

Gareth groaned. “He's been itching for more excuses to do that. Anyway, Einion has evaluated Amphitrite's water systems and has some preliminary solutions. He'll be working on that. We may have to limp over to Hugh Town for some missing materials, but that'll initially be between him and Mari.

“A few of you have submitted proposals. We're starting with two. We'll see how they go and then decide which others, if any, to pursue from there.

“First, Loriesha will sail up to Dublin. Chloe, you'll get to go look for your mum. It's maybe a twelve mile round trip along the southern edge of the city. Your team will be led by Neil. You'll have four others with you. Loriesha sails before daln tomorrow, so you have that long to decide who else will be in your party. You'll travel by foot and use an invisibility spell, so you'll need at least one mage with you. You'll go ashore at dulth. Your goal will be to return by the following melgen.

“Then Loriesha sails to Dungarvan. Once there, Neil and Marido will go ashore at lomelgen in search of her family. It's some sixty-odd miles from Dungarvan to Loughmoe, so you'll take bicycles. Your goal is to return within seventy-two hours. You also have until daln tomorrow to decide who'll be with you.

“Aside from the obvious, part of your mission is to gather intelligence. It's been a little over a week since the Shift. That's been enough time for things to begin to noticeably deteriorate. Any place that's going to survive will be in good shape. Any place that isn't will likely be in utter chaos. You'll all be armed in the event of possible violence. Please return all that weaponry to us in once piece, especially the bows and crossbows. Those will be bloody hard to replace. Blades...not so much, as leaf-springs are now a pence a dozen. You'll also have a magic mirror with you. You'll use it to communicate with Loriesha with status updates and whatnot.

“We'll be implementing some temporary personnel reassignments. Those remaining on Amphitrite will be mainly responsible for assisting Einion in any way he requires. We need the ship as ready as she can be once Loriesha returns. We're aware that in order to figure how long a project will take, we look at how long we think it will take, multiply by two, and convert to the next-highest unit of measurement.

“Oh, and speaking of math, do be aware that Ingarians do math in what we call base-thirteen.”

“So, yes,” said Neil, “in case you're wondering, for them, six times nine is, in fact, forty-two.”

Someone groaned.

“Any questions?” said Gareth. There were none. “Good. I hope all our meetings are this short. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd much rather spend my time working with you all, not standing here talking at you.”

The crowd began to break up. Hayley felt her heart sink. She'd hoped she'd be allowed to go look for her fiance Arnaud. In truth, though, she wasn't surprised her request hadn't been approved. France was a big place and she didn't even know where to start looking for him. He'd been on his way to London to meet her, but he hadn't said whether he was to have been traveling by air, by rail, or by sea. Even if she'd known that, she had no way of knowing whether he'd been on the move at the time of the Shift event. For all she knew, his plane had fallen out of the sky, his train or bus had crashed, or his boat had been set adrift. There were just far too many variables. It made her heart hurt just thinking about it. Whatever happened, she had to hold onto the hope that he yet lived, even if she were never to see him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Orla's real maiden name is Fallon, which she apparently retained for professional reasons. I invented the name Selthby for the story.
> 
> Orla performing "Distant Shore:" www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnFMoTGGUAc
> 
> The manifestation of Chloe's mermaidism comes from Helene Boudreau's "Real Mermaids" series. I didn't consider it a strong enough story element to tag it among the fandoms--particularly since none of the RM characters or places are mentioned here--though it will be later in the saga.
> 
> I don't know what the real Chloe Agnew's feelings about mermaids actually are, if she has any opinion on the subject.


End file.
